nights, and set his boys to watching afternoons, to shoot a fox that,
early and late, had taken nearly thirty young chickens. Driven to
exasperation at last, he borrowed a hound from a hunter; and the dog
ran the trail straight to the den I had discovered.

Curiously enough, the cubs, for whose peaceful bringing up the mother
so cunningly provides, do not imitate her caution. They begin their
hunting by lying in ambush about the nearest farm; the first stray
chicken they see is game. Once they begin to plunder in this way, and
feed full on their own hunting, parental authority is gone; the mother
deserts the den immediately, leading the cubs far away. But some of
them go back, contrary to all advice, and pay the penalty. She knows
now that sooner or later some cub will be caught stealing chickens in
broad daylight, and be chased by dogs. The foolish youngster takes to
earth, instead of trusting to his legs; so the long-concealed den is
discovered and dug open at last.

When an old fox, foraging for her young some night, discovers by her
keen nose that a flock of hens has been straying near the woods, she
goes next day and hides herself there, lying motionless for hours at a
stretch in a clump of dead grass or berry bushes, till the flock comes
near enough for a rush. Then she hurls herself among them, and in the
confusion seizes one by the neck, throws it by a quick twist across
her shoulders, and is gone before the stupid hens find out what it is
all about.

But when a fox finds an old hen or turkey straying about with a brood
of chicks, then the tactics are altogether different. Creeping up like
a cat, the fox watches an opportunity to seize a chick out of sight of
the mother bird. That done, he withdraws, silent as a shadow, his grip